Scott Series: Family Comfort
by QuestRunner
Summary: Sometimes the Tracys walk away from a mission with the occasional ache or pain. It's Scott's job to make sure that his brothers and Kayo make a full recovery - which may or may not require large amounts of chocolate!
1. Gordon

Author's Note: Hey fellow Tbirds! Each chapter focuses on a different Tracy handling their respective ache or pain and how Scott comforts them through the injury. In the last chapter, the others must come together and aid their unofficial team leader in his time of need! I hope you enjoy it! On a side note, the last thirteen episodes of the first season of Thunderbirds Are Go will be released in the US in November and I'm so excited! I can't wait to see our boys face off against the Hood!

Scott balanced two mugs in his hands as he carefully navigated the stairs. He smiled, noticing Gordon's bedroom door slightly ajar, and gave it a light push with his shoulder as he entered.

"I come bearing gifts," he said, lifting the two mugs for emphasis. Gordon snickered from his place on the bed.

"Scott, you don't have to do this EVERY time." Scott glanced at his younger sibling's wrapped ankle with a sigh before taking a seat next to Gordon. He pressed the drink into his hands.

"Yeah, well, what are big brothers for?" he replied. He waited for Gordon to take a sip.

"Hot chocolate! Now you're really spoiling me." Scott gave his brother a good-natured nudge in the ribs.

"Something tells me you got injured on purpose," he joked.

"All part of my master plan," came the reply as Gordon took another swig. Scott smiled a little sadly.

Dad was the one who used to check up on them after missions, spending time at their bedsides when they brought back the occasional ache or pain. Now, as the oldest, Scott felt that responsibility pass to him, at least until Dad returned. This time the injury belonged to Gordon. The sprain was minor, but it would be enough to keep their resident swimmer out of the pool for a few days. When Virgil had given Gordon the official diagnosis, the blonde had laughed it off with a joke then joined Alan for a round of video games. However, despite Gordon's bravado, Scott knew the truth. He could see the slight dip in his brother's shoulders, the falter in his smile. The loss of aquatic privileges pained him more than the swollen ankle ever could. If the past few months had taught Scott anything, it was that there were only three things his younger brother needed to lift his dampened spirits: swimming, chocolate and good company. Swimming was out of the question, but he had the chocolate part down…as for good company…

Scott pulled out a shabby set of cards from the nightstand and shuffled them with ease. He would've preferred to play hearts, but with Gordon, there was only one card game that held his interest.

"Go Fish! My favorite!" his brother exclaimed. "You're going down, Scott! And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you bribed me with hot chocolate." The flimsy cards yielded effortlessly under Scott's touch, a testament to Gordon's affinity for the game.

"I have an idea. Why don't we make this a little more interesting? Something to raise the stakes," Scott said, garnering Gordon's interest even more. He leaned forward from his place on the bed.

"A bet? Sounds like fun. But you do realize that I'm the undefeated Go Fish champion, right?"

"There's a first time for everything, Gords." He pulled up a spare chair and sat across from Gordon as he dealt the cards across the bedspread. "Hmm…if I win you have to take over laundry duty for me this week. Even with your busted ankle." Scott was hopeless with the washer and dryer and on more than one occasion had sabotaged a load of whites with a colored sock or two. Gordon knew his older brother's aversion for the laundry rotation and grinned.

"And if I win you have to clean the pool and make it nice and pretty for my glorious homecoming."

"Deal," Scott said and the pair cemented the bet with a firm handshake. "Maybe you should bunk down in the laundry room for the night. You know, just to get used to your new home for the next week."

"You'll be eating those words before you know it! Better get your swim trunks ready," Gordon bantered. He glanced at the cards in his hand. "Do you have any fives?"

Scott lost both the game and a chip of his pride as he plodded past Gordon's door the next morning in a pair of blue swim trunks. Virgil and Alan intercepted him in the hallway with an armful of dirty laundry. They shoved the clothes into his chest.

"Thanks, bro!" Virgil said over his shoulder as he corralled Alan away before Scott could toss the bundle back. Gordon appeared, as if on cue, and added his own laundry to the collection.

"Have fun cleaning the pool! Well, after finishing our laundry, that is!"

"That's it! Get the cards back out! I want a rematch!" Gordon rushed down the stairs—swollen ankle and all—with a pleading older brother in tow.


	2. Virgil

Scott entered the kitchen with a breathless Virgil at his heels, pausing only to confirm the mileage recorded on his watch. The number made him smile and filled his core with a deep sense of pride. His dark haired sibling leaned against the counter and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow.

"When I said, 'let's run on a different trail today!' I didn't mean the toughest one on the island!" Virgil groaned. Scott retrieved two drinks from the fridge and tossed him a small carton of chocolate milk.

"You asked for it, Virg. Besides, who said this morning would be an easy run?"

"There were HILLS, Scott. Ten hills. Three creeks. Four fallen logs. Did I mention the hills?" Scott ignored the complaint as he took a long drink, giving his sibling a slight nudge to do the same. Virgil opened up the carton with fumbling hands and emptied it in one gulp. "Ugh. My legs feel like they're gonna fall off. Is this normal? I don't think I can make it up the stairs."

"You'll live," Scott replied with a laugh. He pressed a bag of grapes into Virgil's arms. "C'mon. Let's sit down and stretch. Have some grapes. It'll help."

"Chocolate milk and grapes do NOT go together," Virgil said but, at the eldest Tracy's insistence, he carefully lowered his aching body to the kitchen floor and reluctantly popped a grape into his mouth. "It's...okay, I guess." Scott saw their resident painter take another handful of grapes. Then another.

"So, how far do you think we ran today?" Scott asked. He relished the feel of his tense muscles as he took a seat next to Virgil. His sibling grit his teeth as he stretched a particularly tight calf.

"I don't know. Nine miles? Ten? I lost count after I tripped over that rock." Scott stole another glance at his watch and grinned.

"Thirteen miles."

"WHAT?!" Virgil's glare of annoyance quickly melted into disbelief. "Are you telling me that I ran a half marathon this morning? You're serious, right? I really ran that far?" Scott held his wrist aloft so that Virgil could see the proof for himself. "B-But how?"

"You've ran ten miles before, Virg. I knew you could go farther. You just needed a little motivation." The Thunderbird Two pilot laughed even as his legs seized up in pain.

"I can't believe I ran a half marathon. That's amazing. Can we do it again sometime?" Virgil suddenly remembered his earlier animosity toward those blasted hills and quickly added, "I-I mean, you know, on another trail." Scott regarded him with a wry grin.

"Only if you promise me something." Scott reached for his younger brother's left wrist and gave it a firm squeeze. Virgil pulled his arm away with a small gasp. "You hurt your wrist at the last rescue and didn't tell anyone. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but I need to know if you get hurt. Even a small injury can compromise a mission." It was more than that, even if Scott was too stubborn to put it into words. The understanding went unspoken between them and Virgil rubbed his aching wrist sheepishly.

"I know. I just thought I could work through it. But next time I'll tell you. Promise."

"Let's hope there won't be a next time," Scott replied softly.

"Of course there will be. That's why we have our own little mother hen running around to keep us in line," Virgil said. He received a playful shove for his efforts. "Well, that's enough stretching for one day. I think I'll drag myself upstairs and pass out on the bed."

"Not so fast, Virg," Scott said. "You're forgetting the most important part of your recovery."

"And what would that be?" Virgil ventured. He followed his older brother's gaze to the infirmary. "Oh, no! I'm not doing that. No. Never. Nu-uh. That's where I draw the line."

"Fine. Enjoy being stiff and miserable for the rest of the day. For the next FEW days, actually. But don't say I didn't warn you." Virgil glowered at the self-assured sibling.

"This is your way at getting back at me, isn't it? Just because I didn't tell you about my wrist!" His answer came in the form of a small shrug. He eventually lost the battle and forced his protesting legs to stand.

"Your first half marathon AND your first ice bath. This is starting out to be a pretty good day for you, bro."

"Ughhh. How cold is this ice bath again?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got it covered. You'll just have to tough it out for a little while. Ten minutes, tops." Virgil's jaw dropped and he hesitated in the infirmary doorway.

"T-TEN MINUTES?" Scott pushed him forward, despite the protests.

"It's no big deal. Like your wrist. I'm sure you can handle it." That was the last time Virgil hid injuries from his ever-watchful big brother.


	3. Alan

Scott spotted the youngest Tracy at a nearby table, swiping lazily at his holographic studies to make them spin. Alan, unaware of Scott's presence, proceeded to bury his head in his arms through sheer boredom. Scott suppressed a chuckle.

He didn't know why Alan procrastinated with his coursework. It was obvious school came easy for him—easier than it had for the other Tracy boys, save for John. It would take Alan minutes to solve an equation that would take the eldest hours. He cringed inwardly at the memories of slogging through collegiate algebra and calculus, cramming for days just to barely pass the final exams. How the golden trio—John, Brains and Alan—were able to understand it all and apply the concept to their work, he'd never know.

Scott cleared his throat loudly, eliciting a small yelp of surprise from Alan. His younger brother scrolled through the hologram with newfound intensity.

"Just doing some homework. Yep. Homework. Lots of it," came the innocent reply. Scott peered over Alan's shoulder and blanched at the rows of numbers and letters that had no reason sharing the same screen. He gave his brother's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"Keep at it, Al. Just don't come to me with any questions," Scott said, deciding to overlook the fact that Alan had tried to shirk his assignment…again. He took a step away from the table, intending to swing by the hangar to discuss developments for Thunderbird One with Brains, when he heard the familiar wail of sirens. John's image compiled shortly after and greeted the duo with a small smile.

"It looks like we have a situation. Alan, just the one I wanted to see. You're up, little brother." The relief on Alan's face was evident as he bolted upright from his seat.

"A mission! At last! Thunderbird Three is go!" The blonde practically skipped to his place on the couch, homework long forgotten.

Once the mission commenced, Scott tracked Alan's progress from Tracy Island. Based off John's intel, the mission was a simple one. Alan had to shuttle extra equipment and necessities to a spacecraft that had veered off orbit. It was only on Alan's return trip that Scott learned about what had transpired while the blonde was transporting the cargo. Apparently a shift in gravity from Thunderbird Three had sent a metal box hurtling against Alan's leg, leaving a small gash in its wake.

By the time Alan made it back to the island it was nearly dinnertime. After a brief visit to the infirmary, he picked at his food absentmindedly then returned to his desk, flicking through the holograms like before. Scott took a seat next to him.

"Hey, Scott," Alan said wearily. He stole a glance at his bandaged calf. "I'll get my homework done before I go to bed. Promise." Scott frowned. His kid brother only threw himself into his studies when something was bothering him, and he had a feeling it extended beyond the pain in his leg. Scott pretended not to notice and tapped the hologram. He grinned boyishly as the touch sent a ripple across the scrolling equations.

"As fun as that sounds, I have something better in mind," Scott said. He passed a controller into Alan's hands. "You have a two player game, right? Some kind of zombie shooter?" The blonde perked up at the mention of his favorite game. He gripped the controller eagerly and quickly cleared the screen of his unfinished lessons.

"Okay, I'm stuck on level eight. The zombies have us trapped in an abandoned warehouse. Our mission is for both of us to get out alive WITH the cure." Scott studied the own controller in his hands as Alan pulled up the 3D image of the decrepit warehouse.

"Why do we want to escape with the cure? Shouldn't we give it to the zombies?" the eldest Tracy questioned. He pressed a blue button experimentally and his character on the screen turned on his flashlight. Alan punched a combo onto Scott's controller and forced Player Two to pocket the device.

"Don't do that, Scott! Zombies are attracted to light! Only turn on the flashlight when I tell you to!" Alan ordered, his usual spunk returning. "And NO we can't give them the cure because we might need it!" Scott shrugged as he maneuvered his persona behind Alan's squadron leader and they climbed a nearby ladder to the platform above.

"What if we use the cure on just some of the zombies so that they become human again and side with us?" Scott asked. He squinted at the controller. "Huh. What does this button do?" His player dodged to the side and fell off the platform, landing in a heap next to the base of the ladder.

"NOOOOO!" Alan cried. "The zombies are coming! You've got to get out of there! Scott, press the yellow button twice, the orange button once and the red one three times."

"I—wait, what?" Low groans of oncoming undead put an end to his questions. "Got it!" Scott said proudly. His onscreen avatar activated a smoke bomb and allowed him to escape the zombie horde and climb the ladder for a second time. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes glued to the screen.

"Where do we go, Alan? They're everywhere! It's so dark. We need the flashlight!"

"No, they'll be expecting that," Alan countered. The squadron leader darted down an adjoining catwalk and checked the on-site map. "There! That door in the corner below us is our exit. If we can distract the zombies long enough, then we can make a break for it…Scott! Red button, yellow button, yellow button!" Scott complied and his stocky character kicked a zombie that had descended from the rafters. The older brother wiped the sweat from his palms.

"That was close, Alan. Too close. We need a plan of action."

"There is…ONE way," Alan said dramatically. The brothers exchanged glances.

"Let's hear it. We don't have a lot of time. They've taken over the ground level," Scott said anxiously. Alan maneuvered the squadron leader protectively in front of Scott's rookie. The leader withdrew a slingshot from his belt.

"If I can locate the Zombie King and defeat him in combat, then the rest of the zombies will be frozen in place for thirty seconds. That'll be more than enough time for us to get away."

"Why are they only frozen for thirty seconds? Why are they even frozen at all? Wouldn't it make more sense if you became their new leader and they just followed everything you said?"

"Don't question the game logic!" was Alan's reply as he released a few rocks from the slingshot into the zombie crowd to disperse the huddled figures. Scott nearly jumped out of his chair as he pointed at the hologram.

"There! THERE! I found him! I found the Zombie King!" The hulking, glowing skeletal monster groaned as he flew above the aimless minions and landed on the other side of the catwalk.

"The zombies can FLY?" Scott snarled. He flinched when a surprise assailant burst through one of the windows. Alan took it out with a single punch.

"Only the Zombie King can fly. Don't ask me why. You have to find all the hidden amulets to get the secret ending."

"HE'S COMING CLOSER! ALAN, GET HIM! GET HIM!" Scott screamed, scrunching closer to his younger brother as if to protect himself from the grotesque beast. Alan shot a few more rounds from the slingshot.

"This isn't good! I'm out! Abort mission! Abort mission! Just run for the door! Go! GO!" The brothers dodge-rolled off the catwalk and made a valiant, inevitable effort for their one and only escape route, but they were quickly overwhelmed by the skeletal masses. The duo exploded into laughter at their grisly fate, even as the "Game Over" screen brought their brave crusade to an end. Scott stretched back in his chair, trying to control his pounding heartbeat.

"That's one way to get nightmares," Scott said with a grin. Alan clapped him on the shoulder.

"You didn't do half bad…for a newbie. But maybe next time I'll have Gordon help me with that level," Alan suggested.

"Probably not a bad idea," Scott conceded. He placed his controller on the table with a light thump. "Alan, are you sure you're okay?" The blonde nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, my leg hurts a little—"

"I wasn't talking about the leg." Alan's shrugged his shoulders forward and sighed. He twisted his hands in his lap and avoided Scott's gaze.

"I should've been more careful, Scott. If I'd only checked the gravitational readings…" Alan seemed to curl in on himself even further. Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That's what's bothering you? You think that you made a mistake on the mission?" Alan's subtle nod said it all. Scott ruffled his hair obnoxiously.

"That could've happened to any one of us, Alan."

"Yeah, but…" Scott lowered his hand to pull the feisty sibling into a one-armed hug. Maybe it was their curse, as the oldest and youngest in the family, to carry so much guilt over consequences out of their control. Scott wrestled with that ache as he held his brother, knowing that one of his own had suffered in the line of duty, no matter how minor the injury.

"Al, you didn't do anything wrong. It just…happens. Ask John about it next time you see him. That space station has thrown him around more times than he can count. Sometimes gravity just does what it wants." This got a smile out of Alan. Scott stood up from his chair. "So, are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good," Alan chuckled. "Hey, do you mind fetching Gords for me? We've got a warehouse to escape!"

"Sure thing. Oh, and Alan? I want that homework done tomorrow, okay?"

"You got it!" Alan replied. Two days later the assignment remained unfinished, despite Scott's prodding. But, Alan reasoned, at least he'd made it to level nine.


	4. John

Scott pulled two fuzzy blankets from the recesses of the linen storage closet and made his way to the pool. He readjusted the steaming thermos of hot chocolate under his arm and opened the large bay doors, causing the outside light to automatically flicker on at the movement. The floodlight bathed the redhead in a warm glow and startled John from his reverie. The younger Tracy assessed the brunette from a pool lounge chair, where he had apparently settled down to observe the night sky. Scott tried to suppress a chuckle; two o'clock in the morning and John still couldn't get to sleep. The poor guy had been having difficulty sleeping for the past two nights. He wanted to blame his brother's abnormal sleeping patterns on his extended stays on Thunderbird Five, but deep down the root cause was obvious.

"So, what's on the agenda tonight? Ursa Major? Ursa Minor? The Big Dipper? Those are the only three constellations that exist, right?" Scott joked as he dropped down into an adjacent chair. Now it was John's turn to snicker.

"Ursa Major _is_ the Big Dipper. Something you should know, being Alan's back-up and all."

Scott shrugged nonchalantly, extending the thermos toward his brother. John accepted the drink, holding it in his hands a moment to ward off the chilly air before taking a large gulp of the sugary liquid.

"Yeah, well, I was never that creative. The stars all look like lightning bugs stuck in oil, anyways."

"Bet the ladies love that," John added, as they both burst into fits of laugher. Their merriment ended abruptly as the space monitor began to gasp and hiss in pain as he massaged his chest. Scott was standing in an instant, worry evident within his deep eyes, but the second eldest waved him away as he slowly regained his breath.

"It's just some bruised ribs, Scott. Nothing a little hot chocolate can't fix." Scott nodded solemnly, his thoughts as far away as the stars his brother was so fond of watching. The automatic light sputtered off, casting the men in shadow while simultaneously allowing the night sky to twinkle even brighter. John grabbed a blanket and wrapped himself in a warm cocoon as he shivered from more than the growing wind. Scott waited patiently for his brother to broach the subject himself rather than pressure him into conversation. Finally, John spoke in a defeated whisper.

"I couldn't see anything, Scott. It was dark. It was nothing like space and I was terrified." Scott ruffled his brother's perfect hair, much to John's chagrin, and smiled.

"Wait, more terrified than when EOS kicked you out of Five? Because she is a pretty darn scary lady—"

"Shut up!" John replied, burrowing deeper in his blanket burrito, but his voice had lost its sharp edge. Scott sighed, clasping his hands behind his head as he regarded the millions of lightning bugs in the sky.

"You fell into an unmarked cave, hit chest-first on the one boulder in existence down there and had to crawl in near complete darkness for ten minutes before we found you. Anyone would've been terrified! Well, except for Virgil and his ginormous LED spotlight. It's no wonder you don't want to close your eyes." A comfortable silence erupted between the two oldest as John processed the feedback. He'd tried so hard to keep his newfound fear a secret. If Alan and Gordon were to find out, he didn't want to imagine what kind of pranks would ensue. Scott was certainly more observant than he let on.

The crisp air whipped a bit more viciously, cutting through even John's carefully constructed blanket wrap. Scott, unfazed, stood and stretched, then took a quick swig of hot chocolate before hefting the other blanket under his arm.

"Come on, spaceman. The stars will still be here tomorrow night and it's getting cold."

John rolled miserably into a sitting position, slowly adjusting to his aching chest. "I'm not going to sleep. I can't, Scott. It'll just remind me of that stupid cave. Just give me a few more hours, and…"

Scott hauled the redhead to his feet, mindful of his ribs, and draped an arm over his shoulder. He steered his brother back inside where the brunette slumped gratefully into the circular couch housed in their unofficial briefing room. Scott then rummaged around the pillows until he found Alan's tablet and presented it happily to John. John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Okaaaaaay, what's this about?"

Scott indicated John to sit while he propped the tablet on the table. "Virgil's always watching these old as dirt art documentaries, and I thought it would help us both fall asleep. Unless, of course, you _want_ to stay up and watch—" Scott read the dull title with disinterest—"this riveting selection about Mesopotamian pottery." The eldest started the boring video before John had a chance to argue. The next morning found both men fast asleep, pottery documentary still in full swing, much to the confusion of the rest of the household.


	5. Kayo

Scott tugged the heated blanket closer around his torso and joined a shivering Virgil on the couch. Gordon stumbled down the stairs soon after, shamelessly wearing a pair of fuzzy dolphin slippers with a matching pair of gray socks. Scott silently wished he had a pair of fuzzy slippers. Anything to stop the ever-present chill. Alan, who'd been side-lined during the mission, was the first one to break the silence as he entered the living room with an armful of extra quilts.

"So, the Arctic, huh? Sounds like…fun." The trio cast their youngest brother dark looks from under their collective blankets.

"We're not gonna talk about this mission," Virgil said through chattering teeth, "ever again." Gordon hugged his legs closer to his chest and snuggled against the painter's side.

"I'm gonna be cold for the rest of my life," the aquanaut groaned. He swiped a ratty comforter from Alan's arms and buried himself underneath it. Scott looked around wearily, trying to catch a glimpse of one person in particular. He caught Alan's arm as he walked past.

"Hey Al, have you seen Kayo?" The eldest remembered spotting her briefly after she landed Thunderbird S in the hangar, but that had been over a half hour ago.

"I think she's in her room," Alan said with a shrug.

"No. She's out on the patio," Virgil replied with a shudder.

"Muhhhummm," Gordon added incoherently from under his makeshift blanket den. Scott forced his frozen limbs to stand.

"I'll find her. She'll miss out on Grandma's hot chocolate at this rate."

"Wouldn't be such a bad thing," Virgil muttered. Scott swatted him playfully across the head with a pillow.

"I don't care what it tastes like, just as long as I can feel my toes again." He grabbed a few spare sweatshirts and quilts from Alan's haphazard pile and walked numbly across the plush carpet. He looked back over his shoulder. "And I don't want anyone taking my plaid comforter while I'm gone. It's my favorite blanket of all time and it's off limits." He waited until he heard Virgil and Gordon's mumbled assurances before setting forth on his newfound quest. A gut feeling led him past the patio and bedroom doors and down the familiar steps leading to the hangar. It was foolish, really, to think that he would find Kayo among the Thunderbird machinery after such a brutal (and freezing!) mission, but he descended the staircase nonetheless and entered the semi-lit facility.

"Kayo?" Scott called. He squeezed the warm bundle closer to his chest. "Kay—" He stopped mid-stride as he saw a faint light emitting from the base of Thunderbird S. He approached the huddled figure propped against the aircraft with a lantern at her feet. The pilot couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Kayo. What are you doing out here?" Kayo lowered the tablet in her hands.

"Just getting in a bit of light reading. You know, away from the Terrible Two."

"Well, we put Alan on blanket duty and Gordon wrapped himself in a cocoon, so you should be safe…For now, anyway." Scott plopped down beside the operative and offered her one of Virgil's oversized sweaters and a plush blanket. She pulled the material over her head with a shiver. Scott noticed the array of heated towels from the infirmary scattered around her like hamster bedding. Kayo nestled deeper into the comfy pile with a sigh. "Heated towels? Good thinking, Kayo."

"Brains brought them for me, actually," she said, grinning. "I would've gotten them myself, but…" Her smile wavered. She patted her left knee gently which was hidden under a swath of white. Scott threw the rest of the blankets in his arms to the side and peered at the bandage. He rocked back on his heels a little sadly. "I would've told you, Scott, but it was such a hard mission. By the time we got back, all of us were freezing and…well, the last thing I wanted to do was be a burden. Brains patched me up and I had him promise not to tell you boys until you'd warmed up a little." Scott scooted closer to Kayo and gave her a light nudge.

"So, what's the verdict? Good? Bad? Ugly?" She waved his words aside.

"My knee's just a little swollen. Nothing a few days off shouldn't fix."

"A few days? Just long enough for me to take Thunderbird S out for a spin," he joked.

"As if!" Kayo replied with a laugh. "I'll be back on my feet before you know it."

Scott regarded her with a small smile. If he was sitting next to one of his brothers, he could see himself lecturing them about the importance of reporting injuries, despite the nature of the mission, but this was Kayo, his little sister in all but name. He leaned against the hull of Thunderbird S with a contented sigh.

"You're never a burden, Kayo. You know that, right?" He scrunched his hands in a heated towel and gave her a sidelong glance. "And I don't know about you, but it's easier to be miserable when you have people to be miserable with." He pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand. "Whaddaya say we get you a bitter cup of hot chocolate and a couple more sweatshirts?" Kayo chuckled and took his hand.

"Agreed." He gently pulled her upright and she leaned into him for support. They walked, albeit slowly, back into the Tracy household and the pair gawked at the extravagant blanket tent that awaited them in the living room. Virgil poked his head out of the flap and motioned them inside with a gloved hand.

"We have hot packs, a heater, warm socks and hot chocolate," he said, his pink-tinged cheeks validating the statement. Gordon, his head nearly obscured by a wooly scarf, waved at them from inside the misshapen structure. When they noticed Kayo's pronounced limp, they nearly scrambled out of their multiple layers to investigate.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Virgil asked, his brown furrowed in concern. Gordon muffled something from behind his scarf. Kayo shrugged.

"Just a souvenir I picked up from the Arctic."

"She'll be fine. She's a Tracy, after all," Scott said and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Besides, what are we standing around here, for? I still can't feel my hands."

"Allow me to give you the grand tour of the fort!" Alan said. He exited the kitchen carrying a tray piled with mugs of hot chocolate and burnt cookies. The brothers corralled Kayo inside the tent and Gordon lashed the flaps closed so that they could revel in their own personal paradise. Hot packs were passed around, mugs were pressed into shivering hands and blankets were spread across tense shoulders. Scott bundled Kayo in his favorite plaid comforter. With his family within arms reach—including John via hologram—Scott felt himself relax for the first time since the mission's end. He glanced at Kayo as she laughed at one of Gordon's jokes, her injury long forgotten.

"So, who's up for ice cream later?" Alan asked from his place in the corner, lounging comfortably in a pair of shorts and a faded T-shirt. Scott and Kayo threw pillows at Alan's face in retaliation while Virgil and Gordon tackled him in a quilt-encased dog pile. The laughter that came after could be heard from all corners of the Tracy household.


	6. Scott

Scott woke early, wincing slightly from yesterday's black eye. He tenderly pressed the line of bruises on his face as his thoughts drifted to his battered jetpack in the hangar. A stray piece of debris had nearly severed the pack in two mid-flight. Thankfully, he'd only been eight feet off the ground when the device malfunctioned, but the force had still sent him crashing into the undergrowth below. A stray rock was to blame for his black and blue appearance.

He padded softly downstairs, lest he wake any slumbering brothers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. John raised a coffee cup in way of greeting.

"Howdy."

"John! When did you get here?" Scott clapped John amicably on the shoulder and took a seat next to him at the table.

"I got in about a half hour ago. EOS is running a few updates this morning, so I figured I'd take a break and stretch my legs," John said with a shrug. He glanced at Scott's face. "You look a little worse for wear."

"I'm more upset about my jetpack," Scott admitted. "I'll have to talk to Brains later and see what he can do about repairs."

"About that, Scott…the mission…it was a close one, huh?" The question caught Scott off-guard. He frowned, recalling the two-person rescue.

"I don't know about that, John. We got the civilians to safety. Job well done," the pilot replied. He scrutinized the redhead as he took a sip of coffee. "Everything okay?" It was then that Scott noticed his brother's disheveled hair and weary face. "Or maybe the better question is, 'Did you get any sleep last night?'" John laughed.

"More or less. Emphasis on the 'less' part." Scott waited for the redhead to elaborate but John merely tapped the side of his mug in thought.

"If you say so, Johnny," Scott said with a shrug. He bypassed the coffee pot and poured himself a glass of chocolate milk. "So, what are you gonna do with your few hours Earthside? And if you mention anything about stargazing or space, I'll throw you in the pool. Personally."

"Nah, I have something better in mind," the second eldest brother replied. Scott put a hand to his heart in mock surprise.

"Something better than black holes and Thunderbird Five? It can't be!" He earned a shove from John in response. "So, can I ask what your big master plan is?"

"You'll see," came John's cryptic response. He rose from the chair and put a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder. "Hey, I'm glad you're okay, Scott."

The duo suddenly heard the soft notes of piano keys lift and fall at Virgil's command. Scott gave John a nudge.

"Music with breakfast? This is new." Scott and John entered the living room and spotted their younger brother at the piano.

"'Mornin', Virg. Did you finish that new song you were working on?" Scott made the mistake of peering over Virgil's shoulder and frowned at the incomprehensible music sheets, littered with symbols reminiscent of Alan's homework equations. Music and math, two foreign languages his brain had no hope of ever understanding.

"Nice timing. I'm just adding on the finishing touches. I call this the Thunderbirds March!" Virgil said triumphantly. His hands drifted effortlessly across the keys as he played the up-tempo ballad. As the last notes faded, Scott found himself beaming. A smile tugged at John's lips as he shared a nod with Virgil that the eldest Tracy failed to see.

"If we had a theme song, that would definitely be it," Scott said.

"And if we had a TV show, I'd be the main character," Virgil continued with a laugh. "The dashing, daring pilot of Thunderbird Two. It has a nice ring to it."

"Shouldn't the unofficial leader of International Rescue be the main character?"

"Not with a face like that," the pianist replied. "A busted face doesn't really suit you." Scott brushed his fingertips against his swollen eye.

"Can't argue with that."

They were interrupted by the sound of dueling footsteps as Gordon and Alan emerged from their bedrooms and swarmed the piano. Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Up before lunchtime? I'm shocked."

"We have to start our zombie shooter marathon early, Scott," Alan said by way of explanation.

"Followed by a calming, relaxing afternoon in the pool. Or on the beach. I haven't decided yet," Gordon added mischievously. Virgil snorted.

"Yeah right. There's no such thing as calming or relaxing around you little devils." Alan continued to squabble with Virgil while Gordon approached Scott and John. The slight frown on his face contrasted with his vibrant, yellow shirt.

"So…Scott," Gordon ventured. He wrung his hands as if unsure. "Does it, you know…hurt?"

"Oh. My face? It's not bad," Scott said truthfully. "Give it a couple days and I'll be good as new."

"More like a week or two," Virgil clarified from the bench while slapping Alan's hands away from the keys. Scott was about to take a sip of chocolate milk when he suddenly paused. Something was off. He studied his the three youngest brothers with a practiced eye. Virgil stifled a yawn. Alan rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Gordon ran a hand through his already messy hair. He set his cup on a nearby table and crossed his arms. The eldest tried to keep his face passive but he couldn't help a small smile.

"Okay, what's going on?" A chorus of 'nothing' and 'why do you ask' met his ears. Kayo approached the guilty party from the hangar and leaned against the piano.

"Give it up, boys. Nothing gets past Scott," the operative said with a laugh. "I think it's time we told him."

"Told me what? Hey!" The Tracys guided their oldest brother to the couch. They took seats around him, as though preparing for a mission briefing from Thunderbird Five.

"Scott, it's my fault. I didn't realize the flaw in your jetpack design." John spoke up first, the words a sudden contrast to the cheery atmosphere moments before.

"It's no one's fault," Kayo interjected before Scott could voice the same. "But it's true that the jetpack needed an upgrade."

"Besides, what happened to you…Well, I mean, it shouldn't happen to…you, know…YOU." Virgil added. "You're the leader. You're not supposed to get hurt!" Scott turned from one face to the other, perplexed.

"It was only eight feet, Virg. Hardly enough to—"

"You could've been twenty feet off the ground. Or a hundred," Gordon said.

"And that jetpack was nearly torn in half!" came Alan's exclamation. He gestured wildly with his hands. "I mean, that thing was in, like, five different pieces and—" The blonde cleared his throat after John cast him a dark glare. "Well, you get the idea."

"That could've been you, Scott," John explained with a long sigh. "If things had been different, you probably wouldn't have walked away from that accident."

Scott was usually the one doing the comforting, fussing over minor injuries and keeping the "what if" nightmarish scenarios at bay. This unexpected role-reversal nearly rendered him speechless. And, a small part of him realized, he hadn't even given his jetpack malfunction a second thought, had never considered the fact that the crash could've been much, much worse.

"Guys…" he managed. "It all worked out. I'm fine."

"This time, fortunately," Kayo observed. John took the lead and projected a holographic image into the space above the circular couch. Scott recognized the swirling debris as the crippled remnants of his jetpack.

"The debris hit you from the back in one of your blind spots. After the rescue, Brains and I developed a way to add sensors to the outer casing so you'll be notified of dangers from above and behind," John explained. As if to resolve this fact, he added, "And with these modifications, this kind of thing won't happen again." Scott's eyes roved to the space monitor's disheveled appearance.

"Don't tell me that you and Brains worked through the night on the new design! John—"

"I think fixing a problem that could potentially save your life is a little more important than my beauty sleep. But just a little," John replied, allowing himself a small smile. Scott cracked a grin.

"So that's why you came down from Five. To protect this beautiful face."

"Don't push your luck," John said with a roll of his eyes. He threw a pillow at Scott for good measure. "Besides, I'm not the only one who pulled an all-nighter. Isn't that right, Kayo?" Kayo pretended to brush something off her shoulder.

"I met up with Lady Penelope and got the supplies John and Brains needed for the repairs. Nothing strenuous," she said, but her hunched body posture said otherwise. "Anyway, Virgil was the one who stayed up the longest."

"Only because of the Terrible Two," Virgil groaned. "They kept pulling me into the kitchen to help them so that they wouldn't catch the whole place on fire!"

"Hey! It's not our fault! Did you SEE the cooking instructions? Making cookies is way harder than it looks!" Alan pouted.

"And we had to make the dough by scratch!" Gordon added. "And then the mixer kinda-sorta-almost blew up. I think I still have flour in my hair."

"You made me cookies?" Scott leaned forward in excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. Alan and Gordon exchanged nervous glances.

"Well, uh…YEAH, but…"

"You might not want them, Scotty…" After minutes of begging, they finally withdrew a pockmarked tin from under one of the pillows and handed him the box. He tore it open with enthusiasm. "Chocolate chip? My favorite!" He took a bite out of one of the cookies—thankful that it was missing the layer of ash that Grandma Tracy was famous for—and had to force himself to swallow. Those weren't chocolate chips. RAISENS? Ugh. To their credit, the youngest Tracys looked apologetic.

"Grandma didn't exactly have chocolate chips in the house…so…yeah."

"It's the, uh, thought that counts," Scott said. He discreetly slid the rest of the traitorous cookies to the side. "And let me guess. Virg, you were working on your song all night?"

"Theme song, bro. Theme song," the Thunderbird Two pilot corrected him. "But, really, it was no big deal." The others nodded in agreement, quick to downplay their roles.

"No big deal? That's not true! I can't believe you'd do all that for me."

"You're our brother, Scott. Of course we would," Kayo said matter-of-factly.

"And maybe…just MAYBE…we don't enjoy seeing our big bro looking like a bruised mess," Gordon said.

"I don't exactly enjoy it, either," Scott admitted with a chuckle.

"And now for the big reveal." John pulled a wrapped present from behind one of the couches and placed it in his lap. The eldest erupted into a fit of laughter as he eyed the obnoxious bow and 'Happy Birthday' wrapping paper.

"I think you guys are a couple months early to my birthday party."

"Think of it as a 'congratulations you didn't die' present," Gordon suggested. Virgil leapt from his feet and dashed to the piano.

"I'll play Thunderbirds March while you open it!" The dark haired brother started to press the keys while Scott ripped open the paper and looked inside the haphazardly taped box. He withdrew the object and his laughter almost turned into tears. His jetpack. Improved. Repaired. Complete.

"You finished it," he stated lamely. The theme song reached its crescendo. "You guys really did it. Thank you. I can't even…" He was too touched for words.

"Well since it's Scott Didn't Die day, let's celebrate!" Alan declared. "I vote beach party!"

"And every party needs some catchy music, don't you think, Virg?" John said.

"One step ahead of you, John. I went ahead and recorded this new masterpiece so that I can play it anytime I want. Don't worry Scott! We're gonna play Thunderbirds March over and over and over again! Just for you!" Scott's laugh was drowned out by the ebb and flow of the piano keys as he started another round of the Tracys' new favorite song. True to his word, Virgil repeated the song at every waking moment, well into the night, as Scott and the others sat exhausted on the beach after a day of fun and prank-filled wars. Scott watched the moon drift over the lapping waves and thought to himself how lucky he was to be part of the Thunderbirds family.


End file.
